Command Control

LOGAN HAULED HIS rucksack down the stairs to his aunt’s kitchen, dressed in his uniform for the first time since he’d arrived on the farm. Through the window over the sink, he could see his aunt tossing hay bales into the front pastures, taking the time to stop and give her cows an affectionate pat. She’d appreciated his help while he was home. She’d told him as much when they’d said their goodbyes earlier. But he knew she’d be fine without him. For all her talk about wanting to live like a reality TV star, she loved her life here.

He opened the fridge and scanned the shelves for sandwich fixings, something he could take with him to eat on the way to the airport. He would have asked Aunt Lou to drive him, but he knew she hated long goodbyes. And despite her fiery personality, she drove so slowly he’d probably miss his flight.

He’d secured the last seat on the only flight to Nashville that day. If he didn’t make it, he didn’t have much chance of getting to Fort Campbell on time. After weeks of waiting, he was ready to be back where he belonged.

A knock sounded on the kitchen door.

“Shit.” He finished spreading mayo on his bread, set the knife down and headed over to greet his aunt’s friend, who’d undoubtedly stopped by for gossip. About him and those damn pictures.

Logan swung open the door. A tall man with red hair stood on the stoop, a large duffel at his feet. Though he looked younger than he probably was, Logan knew his identity without asking. He’d been out of the service for decades, but the man still carried himself like a marine.

“Afternoon, sir,” Logan said.

Sadie’s father held out his hand. “Tim Bannerman. I don’t suppose you’d know where I can find my girls?”

“Sadie left. Headed back to New York. But Laurel should be home and she has your key.” Aunt Lou had told him as much before she’d headed for the barn.

“I guess I’ll make my way over to Laurel. If you wouldn’t mind pointing me in the right direction.”

Logan scanned the parking area and saw his truck parked beside his aunt’s car. Sadie’s dad must have cabbed it from the airport.

“I’m about to head out after I finish making this sandwich. I can give you a ride over there if you don’t mind waiting.” He stepped back, holding the door for the older man.

“Thank you.” Mr. Bannerman stepped inside, carrying his bag as if it was featherlight. “Sorry I missed Sadie. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen her.”

“She had to get back to New York.” For the interview that could drive the last nail into the coffin currently holding his career.

“Dealing with the fallout from those pictures, I imagine,” Mr. Bannerman said.

Logan looked up from his sandwich. “You’ve seen them?”

“Yes, son. I have.” He held up his smartphone. “Sadie gave it to me last year. I can access the internet anywhere.”

Logan knew everyone would see them. He was ready to face his teammates’ teasing and the wide-eyed, probably disapproving looks from the people in Mount Pleasant. After all, it was their bookstore. But standing in front of this man, knowing he’d seen photographic evidence of his daughter on her knees, blowing him away—Christ, Logan wanted to sink into the floorboards.

“I’m sorry, sir.” What else was there to say?

“Not your fault they showed up in the tabloids, was it?” Mr. Bannerman asked.

“No, sir.”

Sadie’s father nodded. “I didn’t think so. My daughter’s work—it lands her in funny places.”

That was one way to look at it.

“But my daughter’s job doesn’t define her.” The retired marine didn’t look away. He stared at Logan as if assessing him from head to toe. “Wearing a uniform, I know more than most people how that can make you feel as if you live and die by your commitment to serve your country. I felt that way once upon a time. Then I met my wife and had my girls. I realized that the people you love, they’re the ones who define who you are. When you make the hard choices—you make them for the people you love.”

The older man’s pristine posture slipped as if the weight of his life, and his regrets, rested heavily on him. “On the surface, I’m an unemployed veteran who spent most of his life getting by, going from one odd job to the next. I need my daughter’s money to survive month to month. Without that...” He shook his head. From across the room, Logan could feel the shame radiating off the older man.

“I’d like to think I’m more than that to my daughters,” he continued. “I gave them everything I had. All the love in my heart. Every day. Knowing that they might never be proud of me for the choices I made, but at least they’d feel loved.”

The pieces fell into place. Sadie’s unyielding drive, the way she understood Charlotte, even the reason she’d carried the pink wand her father had given her years ago while herding cows—it all made sense. She thought she was searching for stability and, yes, that played a role, but deep down he suspected she wanted to show her father that she loved him.

“You are more,” Logan said. “You’re her hero. And it has nothing to do with the uniform. You were her hero from the day she was born.”

“I...” Sadie’s father blinked, his posture straightening. “Thank you for that, son.”

Logan nodded and picked up his sandwich. “How about I drive you over to Laurel’s so you can meet your granddaughter?”